


Let Them Eat Cake

by abp



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Food Sex, M/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-09 23:43:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abp/pseuds/abp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras made him a cake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Them Eat Cake

**Author's Note:**

> Someone needs to stop letting me write porn because somehow this turned out a lot sillier than it was supposed to. Also, it's unbeta'd so if you see any glaring mistakes, feel free to let me know. (ferreisfair on tumblr if you'd like to contact me there)

Enjolras baked him a cake.

It was hardly the prettiest cake; in fact, it looked like it might collapse if someone looked at it too hard. But it was solid and there. A real, actual _homemade_ cake.

Grantaire couldn’t get over his surprise—could only stare with a foolish grin stretched across his cheeks while Enjolras flushed.

“It’s your birthday. I had to make a cake,” Enjolras insisted, flustered by the awed attention.

Grantaire only smiled softer and snaked an arm around his waist. Enjolras leaned willingly against him. “You don’t have the patience to make _easy mac_ ; how on earth did you bake a whole cake?”

Enjolras frowned petulantly.

“Is it any good?” Grantaire continued.

“How should I know? I didn’t try it.”

Grantaire laughed and kissed his cheek. “Maybe we shouldn’t eat it.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Right now it’s Schrödinger’s cake,” Grantaire smirked. “It _might_ be good. Might not. But we’ll never have to know the reality of it.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes, but Grantaire detected a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He playfully kissed Enjolras’ cheek again.

“Thank you.”

Enjolras smiled in full now. “Will you try it?”

“Can I eat it off of you?” Grantaire purred in his ear, just to see the color rise to Enjolras’ cheeks once more. He hadn’t expected Enjolras to look at him with smoldering eyes, tongue darting out to wet his plump lips. “Oh shit, _you’d let me?”_

Enjolras smirked now. “Well, it _is_ your birthday.”

“Don’t say that. Not unless you want me licking frosting out of your navel.”

“Because that’s a hardship for me.”

“ _Something_ will be hard.” Grantaire waggled his eyebrows and Enjolras shoved him lightly. “So is this a thing? Do I get to spread you out on our bed and cover you in chocolate cake?” His eyes trailed over Enjolras slowly. “Because I will _devour you_.”

Enjolras shuddered and nodded. He found himself very suddenly pressed against the kitchen counter, Grantaire’s mouth on his. Grantaire’s hands snuck down to hold at Enjolras’ hips and pull him closer, grinding against him as their tongues met in a frantic, wet heat.

“Bedroom. Now,” Grantaire prompted as he pulled back suddenly. “Go get naked.”

“Who said romance was dead?” But Enjolras slipped away obediently.

Grantaire took the cake and followed.

**

Upon finding Enjolras spread out on the sheets languidly, naked and glowing in the afternoon light, Grantaire hesitated. _Where did he begin?_

Enjolras flushed under his appraising gaze, but stared back fiercely. “Are you going to keep me waiting?”

“Of course not, your highness.” Grantaire smirked. He set the cake down on the nightstand and stripped quickly, his clothes thrown carelessly to the floor, before straddling Enjolras’ waist.

“We are not amused,” Enjolras murmured back. A touch of pink lingered on his cheeks and Grantaire’s smirk grew.

“Ooh, you _like_ that?”

“Shut up.”

Grantaire laughed. “As you command, my liege,” he purred, his hot breath ghosting over Enjolras’ ear before he moved in to nibble at the lobe.

Enjolras shuddered, one hand twining in Grantaire’s messy curls while the other gripped at the sheets. Grantaire moved down Enjolras’ jawline with a trail of kisses before focusing his attention on the pale skin of Enjolras’ neck. He bit and sucked, earning a hitched breath and a slight tug at his hair. Diligently, he lavished the spot with attention until he was certain there would be a lovely mark on display. Grantaire pulled back with a wolfish smile.

“I think it’s time we move on, hmm?”

Enjolras licked at his lips and gave a slight nod. “Let them eat cake.”

Grantaire snorted but his smile lingered, even as he leaned over to reach the cake. He dug his fingers into the surface, scooping a handful. “I do believe you’re mixing up your monarchs,” he teased. “Are you Victoria or Marie?”

Enjolras answered with a gasp as Grantaire smeared cake over his chest. “It’s _warm_.”

“Did I not mention I threw it in the microwave?” Grantaire grinned mischievously. “It’s really gooey,” he mused, fingers moving to trace Enjolras’ lips and spread a trail of chocolate over them. “Probably should have cooked it more.”

Enjolras’ tongue darted out to lick at Grantaire’s fingers. Quickly the digits disappeared and he found his mouth occupied with Grantaire’s. The kiss tasted of rich chocolate, sweet and decadent, as their tongues pressed into each other’s mouths; Enjolras moaned low, his hips straining up to grind against Grantaire’s. They were both hard and Grantaire hissed at the sudden friction, the sound lost in their kissing.

He sucked at Enjolras’ bottom lip, extracting another low sound, and let the kissing linger until he had cleaned every trace of chocolate cake from his lips. Only then did he pull back, pressing a kiss to the corner of Enjolras’ mouth before refocusing on the melted chocolate cake spread over Enjolras’ chest. Grantaire licked his lips and attacked. He lapped at trails of crumbs and smeared chocolate, tasting the salt of sweat under the sweetness. As Enjolras’ breathing hitched and sped, Grantaire moved to swirl his tongue around a nipple. He sucked at it until a whine escaped Enjolras, then diligently gave the other nipple the same treatment.

“Delicious,” he murmured against warm skin, lips curling upward as he felt Enjolras squirming beneath him. Hints of chocolate cake were still smeared across Enjolras’ chest, but Grantaire leaned up to scoop another handful from the source. This time he spread it lower, across Enjolras’ stomach, and made quick work of the treat. He lapped at a patch of frosting, feeling muscles quiver underneath the attention. With great care, he sucked and bit at Enjolras’ hipbone until he was moaning openly and fisting the sheets.

“Please,” Enjolras panted.

Grantaire met his eyes, a smirk playing on his features. “Please what?”

“I need more,” he nearly growled in frustration, an impatient frown on his bitten-red lips. “Stop playing with your food.”

“Yeah?” Grantaire chuckled huskily and hastily took more cake in his palm before wrapping his hand around Enjolras’ cock.

“ _Fuck.”_ Enjolras groaned, hips bucking upwards as Grantaire’s fingers tightened their grip and spread the dessert over his sensitive flesh.

Grantaire smiled dangerously. He leaned in and licked a stripe up the underside of Enjolras’ cock.

“ _Don’t tease_.” Enjolras’ voice came off high and strangled.

“Yes, your majesty.” He took the head in his mouth and sucked. The chocolate mixed with precum, sweet and bitter tastes swirling together. Enjolras responded with a moan through grit teeth as Grantaire tongued at the slit. He quickly took in more, firmly holding Enjolras’ hips as he bobbed his head; the heady taste underneath the decadent chocolate and the weight on his tongue left Grantaire dizzy and hot. _Want_ coiled deep in the pit of his stomach.

Grantaire pulled off, breathing labored and lips swollen red. “Let me fuck you.” His voice was rough and needy.

_“Yes._ ” Enjolras’ tongue darted over his lips. He looked wrecked; blond curls stuck up messily with sweat, face flushed, and pupils blown wide in lust. (And there were few things Grantaire liked more than seeing his beautiful Apollo disheveled and desperate.)

Grantaire fumbled with the nightstand, yanking the drawer open impatiently to find condoms and lube. His left hand smeared chocolate over the furniture, but neither of them could bother to care at the moment.

 “You don’t have to prep me.”

“Enj—“

“No,” he interrupted, a hint of a grin playing over his lips. “I did it already. Before you got home.”

Grantaire’s breath hitched and he felt a stab of new arousal curling hotly inside of him. All he could picture now was Enjolras spread out on the sheets, moaning and whining as he fingered himself. “ _Shit_.” He wet his dry lips and pushed the lube and condom at Enjolras. “ _You_ —help me.”

Enjolras laughed breathily but did as he was told, rolling the condom over Grantaire’s cock before taking him in hand.

Grantaire let out little groans, hips surging into the grip. He pulled back after only moments, swallowing heavily. “That’s enough—I’ll lose it soon.” The look on Enjolras’ face was slightly too smug for Grantaire’s liking.

“Spread your legs,” Grantaire instructed in a low purr, nudging a thigh. He was pleased to watch Enjolras’ expression melt into one of lust as he obeyed. “That’s a good prince.”

_That_ expression on Enjolras’ face—a mix of desperation and embarrassment at his pleasure—was even more satisfactory. Grantaire lined up his cock and pressed in slowly, biting his lip as the tight and slick heat enveloped him. Enjolras let out a hiss of pleasure below him, arms moving to grip at Grantaire’s shoulders.

“Do you like that, my liege?” Grantaire crooned, stilled in his movements. He lowered his head to bite at Enjolras’ earlobe. “You like getting fucked?”

Enjolras moaned, hips wriggling and fingernails digging into Grantaire’s skin. “Move. Please. _Please._ ”

“As you wish.” Grantaire thrust in and out slowly a few times before taking on a quicker pace that had Enjolras crying out and meeting each thrust. “Slut,” he teased, bowing to suck a new mark into Enjolras’ neck as the blond shuddered below him.

“Is that any way to talk to your ruler?” Enjolras panted out, trying to joke but sounding more wrecked than anything.

Grantaire bit hard at his neck, earning a yelp. “Be a good boy or I’ll dethrone you,” he taunted, thrusting harder.

Enjolras’ nails scratched harder at Grantaire’s back in response, a steady stream of groans and pants escaping him. “Like to see you— _ah—_ try.”

“Mouthy,” Grantaire chided. “We’ll fix that.”

He leaned slightly to run his fingers through the chocolate cake, then pressed the digits to Enjolras’ lips. Enjolras opened his mouth, taking in three fingers to suck and lick at obscenely. A shudder ran through Grantaire and he bit back a moan.

Arousal coiled in the pit of his stomach and he knew it wouldn’t be long; his pace grew uneven and desperate, pressing deeper and harder into Enjolras’ shaking form. “A monarch in service of his people,” Grantaire murmured huskily, kissing at Enjolras’ neck. “I think you deserve a reward.” He pulled his fingers from that perfect mouth and took Enjolras’ cock in hand. 

Enjolras moaned, baring his neck and arching his hips.

Grantaire licked at his skin and panted raggedly as he stroked Enjolras’ cock in time with his thrusts. Heat swirled and fogged around him and his body thrummed; he was close enough to taste his orgasm. He pressed his lips to Enjolras’, sudden and hungry. It was messy and wet, full of too much tongue and clashing teeth, but neither cared.

Enjolras cried out suddenly against his lips, hips giving stuttering little thrusts as he came over Grantaire’s hand and both of their stomachs.

It only took a few more thrusts for Grantaire to come, Enjolras’ name on his lips far sweeter than any chocolate. He let himself collapse on top of Enjolras, not caring that the mix of chocolate cake, saliva, and come smearing itself across his own skin.

Eventually Enjolras grunted and pushed lightly at his shoulder, to which Grantaire gently pulled out and rolled over. He wiped his hand on the sheets before he tugged off the condom, knotted it and tossed it into the garbage can.

Enjolras hummed contently and laced their fingers together, his face pressing against Grantaire’s shoulder to leave little kisses. They were both still breathing hard. “Happy birthday,” he murmured. “I love you.”

Grantaire’s smile stretched across his face, lighting up his features. “How much?” he asked teasingly, giving Enjolras’ hand a squeeze. “Because you may not have noticed yet, but I’ve totally wrecked the sheets. Also, _you_.”

“The chocolate will wash off me,” Enjolras yawned. “And we can buy new sheets.”

“The _chocolate_ will wash off, but those hickies won’t,” Grantaire smirked, running a finger delicately over the darkening marks until Enjolras shivered and swatted his hand away.

He looked at Grantaire with a fond annoyance. “I’ll forgive you because it’s your birthday.”

Grantaire chuckled and leaned in to kiss him, mouths moving in a slow tenderness. He nipped at Enjolras’ bottom lip playfully.

“We should shower,” Enjolras murmured, pulling back slightly.

“Can’t move,” Grantaire whined. “You broke me with good sex.”

“Just to rinse off,” Enjolras insisted, kissing at the corner of Grantaire’s mouth. “I’m _sticky_.” He had a hand in Grantaire’s curls now, playing with them absentmindedly. “And if you behave, I’ll run a bath.”

Grantaire hummed appreciatively, catching Enjolras in another brief kiss. His fingers brushed tenderly over Enjolras’ thigh, tracing patterns. “Alright. But you have to promise it’s one of those girly bubble bath with candles and music. And you have to be in it too.”

Enjolras laughed warmly. “Of course.”

“No laughing at girly baths, mister. _You’re_ the one that gets off on being called a prince,” Grantaire smirked. “You did, right? It seemed like you did.”

“A little,” Enjolras admitted, a slight pink on his cheeks again.

Grantaire’s smirk widened. “Don’t worry, this is a no-judgment zone. I like bubble baths and chocolate, you like power. It’s cool.”

Enjolras frowned at him, but seemed to think better of arguing. “Come on,” he poked at Grantaire’s chest. “We’ve got your birthday dinner at Combeferre’s later. If we don’t move now, we won’t have time for a bath.”

“Okay, okay,” Grantaire grumbled, letting Enjolras coax him out of bed and towards the bathroom. “Hey, the cake wasn’t for the party, right?”

Enjolras stopped in his tracks, turning to glance at the nightstand. The cake, where it had once been a little lopsided and clumsily frosted, now looked like a wild animal had pawed at it. ” _Shit_.”

Grantaire laughed loudly. He wrapped his arms around Enjolras from behind and nuzzled at his neck. “It was undercooked anyway.”

Enjolras elbowed him, but Grantaire only chuckled and kissed his shoulder.

When they showed up to the party empty handed _(“Who knew bakeries close that early—hey you can’t be mad at me, it’s my birthday!”)_ with Enjolras covered in hickies, they took the teasing in stride. Or rather, Grantaire laughed and Enjolras graciously managed not to hit him.


End file.
